


Razzle Dazzle

by Blindpulse



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Don't Even Know, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, knowing cicero this will turn into an explicit rating, rated for oncoming smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blindpulse/pseuds/Blindpulse
Summary: The adventures of loyal Cicero and his best grumpy friend! Alternatively - 'How Getting Caught-up in a Country-Side War and Eating Dragon Souls Really Brings People Together'BETA READERS REQUIRED





	Razzle Dazzle

**Author's Note:**

> Note! The style and pacing of this chapter jumps around a bit thanks to Cicero's rose-coloured lens and me getting used to his patterns. Bear with me, and I'm sure we'll all survive!

Loyal Cicero was pleased as punch with the Night Mother’s decision to name this one their Listener. It was an excellent, _splendid,_ fantastic choice if you asked him.

 _Sure_ , she’d tried to have him arrested, but that was a thing of the past! He later accidentally tried to execute her for treason anyway, so it was all water under the bridge now. Tit for tat. After all that, they were the very best of friends! Cicero, the Fool of Hearts, Keeper of the Nightmother, and Vida, chosen Listener and the apparent ‘Dragonborn’ (he didn’t know what that was, so it mustn’t have been important).

At least, they **were** for several crucial seconds before Astrid stormed in and ruined everything. But now, she was dead and everything was perfect. Vida had made everything perfect.

The Listener had that kind of way about her, as all Nords seemed to; perpetually angry-looking, always tense. She didn’t like to talk about herself, but from the way she eagerly took payment from Nazir to offer souls to Sithis, she was no traditional Nord.

She frequently got into fights with Arnbjorn, too. That really helped Cicero to like her more. 

Shadowmere carried the two of them now. The Listener slept seated up front and chivalrous Cicero sat behind, trying to indulge shamefully in the jostle of her behind against him. She wore heavy armour, however, and he was quite certain he’d be sanded to the bone by the time they reached Riften.

A particularly phlegmy snore tore its way out of the Listener like a growl of warning, and Cicero immediately scooted back, warily watching.

Still sleeping. Exhausted.

She’d promised to come back for him when she took over the Sanctuary, and the faithful Listener hadn’t forgotten him. She’d kept her word and come back for Cicero. Oh, how he liked that. A true friend if there ever was one.

What a nice day that was.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Laughter rang through Cicero’s brain, wracking his skull while Arnbjorn slammed a huge paw over his shoulder, keeping him still at the edge of the altar. Would he slice away at him with his claws? _Tear him up with his teeth?_ Perhaps the werewolf would just eat his head and choke on it.

Cicero couldn’t help the spit of a giggle that escaped him at the image. He was to die here; why was he left guessing how? Why, why was this taking so long? Arnbjorn should have eaten him alive by now.

Oh, he must be savouring the capture. Not that it was a very good one. The werewolf was terribly hurt himself.

The beast sniffed, distracted.

“Kill me already!” Cicero spat through gritted teeth, becoming impatient.  A smile twisted at his mouth in pain and mockery. Forcing the jester to wait like this was too cruel.

The wet crunch of steel in guts and bone split through the air, followed by a screeching yelp. Cicero’s gaze snapped up, a terrible ache thumping through his shoulder as more weight pushed into it.

Arnbjorn trembled above him, eyes wide in shock. Embedded deep in his right side was the gleaming, jagged metal of the Listener’s Warhammer. She appeared at the beast’s side, brow furrowed so deep Cicero could barely make out her eyes. Her boot collided with Arnbjorn’s ribs, retrieving her weapon and taking a hunk of flesh with it.

Cicero was in as much shock at Arnbjorn then. No doubt Astrid had sent Vida here to come to Arnbjorn’s aid – to kill Cicero. This view, however, of the Listener coming to Cicero’s rescue instead, was much, much better. She was rescuing _him!_ A choked breath of laughter escaped the jester.

The werewolf’s pupils slid to right, finding Vida, following her movement as she moved between him and poor, dear Cicero.

“You said you’d killed him…” Arnbjorn wheezed, flashing his massive fangs at the woman.

“You said you would go home, dog.” Vida growled, voice low. Her fingers stretched and closed against her weapon.

Arnbjorn snarled, dropping to his knees. His beastly form heaved rattling breaths. Blood pooled between his teeth. He was bleeding from the inside. Wouldn’t be long now.

“Traitor! You defy your matron! She’ll have you ripped apart for this!”

He made a move to slash at her, removing his grip from Cicero – but his movement was sluggish from the pain. Half his ribcage was likely obliterated from Vida’s swing earlier, and his other side was bleeding out from Cicero’s own blade. His body was failing, yet his curse was allowing him to cling to life.

Vida simply shoved the giant arm away, offering a musical little chuckle that made Cicero’s heart soar.

“What makes you think she’ll find out?” Vida asked, gripping her hammer close to the base. Execution style. She raised it high over her shoulder.

“Any last words?”

Cicero's heart thrummed away in his chest.

“Yes, yes, Listener! Oh, powerful, kind Listener!” Cicero breathed, gaze locked squarely on her silhouette now. “Kill the dog! Kill the dog!” He was becoming more worked up by the second.

Arnbjorn stilled, shakily breathing in his acceptance. He scowled at Vida, almost her height even on his knees.

“You will pay fo-“

“You don’t deserve any.  Whoops, look at that - my hand’s slipping.”

Then the hammer was halfway inside the wolf’s skull, and Cicero was howling with laughter. A dead heave escaped the beast and its maw hung open. Its eyes floated about in their sockets, confused. Trying to make sense of what was happening.

The hammer withdrew, and the werewolf rolled down the steps and onto the floor, twitching and grunting.

“Finish him, Listener,” Cicero near prayed, laughs ringing through the hall, “He still lives. Even with a broken chest and brain, he still lives.”

What the Listener did then surprised Cicero. Her weapon slid from her hand, clanging as it hit the ground. She turned toward Cicero and started to crouch.

His heart slammed in his chest suddenly, pounding rapidly as she leaned over him.  Was she going to strangle him? A scrape sounded, and just like that, she had retreated from him and his heart ceased to dance. Watching her form as it moved away, however, he spied his own dagger in Vida’s grasp.

Her silhouette plunged the blade into the beast’s throat, and with a strangled squeak, Arnbjorn was done.

Dead. Gone! Unable to torture him any longer!

“You did it; you killed him.  Oh, joy.” Cicero breathed as she neared him again, dropping the blade and rifling through the pouches on her armour. “But what about Astrid now, and the rest? Will you strike down the pretender? Surely you won’t kill humble Cicero as well…?”

Her brow furrowed.

“Cicero. Please. Quiet.”

He promptly zipped his lip, relatively content just to scrutinise her instead.

She hooked her hair around her ears as she sorted through glass potion bottles, eventually procuring a thin red vial. Her hand slipped beneath Cicero’s neck and his heart started again.

“Head back.”

He did as he was told, opening his mouth when she pressed the vial to his lips.

Oh, he was going to have to fight more often. Being fussed over like this was spectacular.

The warm liquid ran over Cicero’s tongue, and as soon as it hit his throat, the pain from his injuries began to pass. Within moments, his wounds had disappeared, and once again, Vida vanished from his proximity. It was hardly fair.

With his energy replenished, Cicero pulled himself into a sit, crossing his legs on the steps below. Vida sat beside him, a few feet away, arms resting on her knees. She scowled straight ahead as she usually did, and he watched her, in silence.

“I’m sorry that I came here to kill you.” She mumbled

“Cicero forgives.” The jester shrugged simply, offering a little chime, “You protected me. I will make sure to pay you the same loyalty.”

“Wait, wait?” Vida squinted, head snapping around so that she could glare at him. The withering look only served to encourage him, of course, and with a hop, skip and a jump, Cicero was bowed theatrically before her.

“From this day, except to clean mother, I pledge not to leave your s-“

A small pebble colliding with Cicero’s head silenced him. He rubbed at the budding bruise, pursing his lips.

“Oh no you won’t. I’m getting out of here, and you’re going to make sure no one finds you."

Cicero’s eyes flew open.

“B-but, but Listener…! What about Mother? Cicero cannot tend to her while she is so far away! Can’t we just storm the sanctuary and-“

“No, Cicero.” Vida rose to a stand, heading down the stairs. Cicero immediately followed, shadowing her all the way up to the entrance of the Sanctuary and onto the coastline outside. The sun had since risen and Shadowmere patiently filed at the grass.

“Give me time and I’ll figure something out. Astrid is starting to come around to the idea of my being Listener, so we may get out of this without having to kill more of our own.” She explained, turning to find the Keeper a suddenly blubbering mess.

“Please, Listener, don’t make Cicero wait in the Sanctaury again. It’s empty, and he doesn’t even have Mother to keep him company!” Cicero pleaded.

Quickly and sufficiently guilted, Vida stopped and looked away.

“Cicero, do as I say.” She ordered, silencing him. His gut churned.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, and neither does your Mother.”

“She’s not just _my_ mother.”

“I am her Listener,” Vida side-stepped, voice softening. She approached Cicero, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. “She may not have the strength to speak to you, but she hears you. You are her Keeper after all.”

Cicero’s stomach was having an awful time, going from happy to sad and back this much. Butterflies fluttered when Vida reassured him, and a little spark of pride shot through him. Yes! He was Keeper! He would wait for Vida to return, and when she did, she would bring Mother, and they would all rebuild their family.

All he had to do was wait a little longer.

She would come back for him.

“Cicero trusts you.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_'Remember, my child – the contract still remains. You must-'_

“I **know** , woman! Just let me be free of your nagging for one moment!” Vida slammed her spoon down on the table, casing Nazir to drop his own.

“I wasn’t saying anything!” Babette defended from across the table.

“I know, I was talking to _her_.”

“You can’t talk to the Night Mother that way, Listener.” Nazir reprimanded, plucking up his spoon to point it at her.

“Oh yeah? Well, the Night Mother shouldn’t have chosen a Nord to do her dirty work.” Vida shot back, certain she'd won.

“It sure wasn’t Talos you were Praising when you were killing folks for coin.”

Silence.

“I don’t have to listen to this right now.”

“You’re the Listener!” Both seniors protested.

“Yeah, well business hours are over. My ears are closed.” Vida crossed her arms and legs, looking up to find the other two frowning at her.

More silence.

She sighed.

“I’m going home to take a bath.” Vida concluded, untangling, standing up, and straightening her armour. “I’ll be back in a few days to help set up the new furnishings once the Emperor of Skyrim’s _dead_. Thanks for the soup, Nazir.”

 

 Vida swore over and over as she pulled herself up the stairs. Dawnstar Sanctuary was big, and she was tired. After getting Nazir and Babette here with the Night Mother in one piece, she had little energy left to spare, and without the coin to keep her going – Vida would admit it – she was ready to ditch the place.

No doubt the others were all tired as well, but they were used to this kind of thing, she was sure of it. Maybe the Night Mother wasn’t used to being dropped so much (hopefully Nazir had those dents pushed out by the time she got back), and Babette didn’t actually ever sleep come to think of it. Nazir was a professional, so Vida was whining on her own.

It had been days since she’d had a full night’s sleep, and weeks since she’d returned to Breezehome. Runa was probably scavenging for crumbs by now, and knowing Lydia, the housecarl had probably fallen off the roof and broken her neck.

Gods, she hoped she had. These people had rubbed off on her. After all of the Night Mothers hissing in her head, Lucien’s drawling about the past, and Nazir reminding her to kill the sodding Emperor she’d sworn to protect, she was happy to get away at least for a while.

The sunlight burned when Vida opened the door to the Sanctuary, and she retreated for a moment to shield her eyes. Shadowmere whinnied up ahead, directing Vida, and eventually the nord found her way to the horse through squinted eyes. She mounted him, sluggish and with another curse

“LISTENER!”

Oh dear no.

She’d forgotten about him.

The jingling of bells rung rhythmically as the jester’s dirtied form ran toward them from between the trees.

“Cicero? That you?” She grunted, rubbing at her eyes.

“Oh yes, it is Cicero.” The fool chuckled, “You were a fool to spare me! Did you think I would be grateful?”

He drew his blade on the woman and Shadowmere backed up, snorting his disapproval.

“Cicero should be Listener! Not you! Now you DIE!”

There was no response from the Nord on the horse. Just the empty howl of wind. A mirthful shriek burst from Cicero, who dropped his blade to point up at her and double over in laughter.

“Gotcha! Ohh, oh Listener! You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

Cicero continued to laugh for a little while, and then laughed for a little while longer to encourage the Listener to do the same when she failed to join in. Soon, all he heard was another snort from Shadowmere.

He looked up.

Eyes closed, mouth open, snoring just a little. She was sleeping soundly against the back of Shadowmere’s neck.

His Listener had fallen asleep while he was playing a prank on her. Or while he was threatening her life, depending on which part she'd stayed awake for.

Oh, what a gift Mother had rewarded him with. He adored her already.

He was going to braid her hair and blame it on the horse.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the little prologue :) It's adventuring time from here on out.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
